


Between Pages - The Talk

by Prilly_N1



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Book/Movie 2: Catching Fire, F/M, Gen, Hunger Games, Love Triangles, Nightmares, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 11:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4520640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prilly_N1/pseuds/Prilly_N1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A stand alone oneshot from Peeta's POV the morning after Gale's whipping. What really happened when Katniss left the room and Peeta stayed to sit with Gale. Read and find out! Rated T to be safe. PeetaxKatnissXGale triangle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Pages - The Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Written in Peeta's POV.

I wake with a start, panting heavily and limbs shaking. My pyjamas are soaked through with sweat and my hair is plastered to my forehead. I swipe it away roughly with the back of my hand and brace myself on the edge of the bed. The sun isn't even up yet but I know it's futile to try and get back to sleep. Nightmares have plagued me constantly since my return from the arena six months ago. The same old memories played out with such clarity that it often takes several minutes after waking to remind myself that I'm safe at home in my Victors House. But yesterdays events succeeded in adding new images to my archive of night time horrors. Even now I can hear the sicken crack of the whip that Thread brought down repeatedly on Gale's bare back, the gut wrenching cry of anguish ripped from Katniss's throat as she witnessed the very thing I tried to stop her from seeing and the squelch of fresh blood beneath my boots as I helped to cut Gale free from his restraints. My stomach churns violently at the memory of his shredded back, the flayed skin hanging like scarlet ribbons. I choke when I think of how Katniss took a single strike to her face but how it could have been much worse.

That's where my dreams took me last night. Not Gale, but Katniss.

Her wrists bound so tightly with rope that they cut into her flesh. The humiliation on her face as her upper garments were ripped apart, exposing her to the large crowd that gathered about the square. The sadistic smirk on Thread's face as he unfurled his whip, shouted out the crime committed and the punishment to be issued. I watched it happen, unable to move or even speak. Like a train wreck, I was powerless to stop it. Katniss was brave and determined but after the fourth lash she could no longer keep in her cries of pain. Her eyes found mine in the crowd and for a split second she found peace, mouthing something that I couldn't understand. Thread pulled back once more and as the whip descended I awoke.

I shake my head to ride myself of the horrific images. It doesn't bear thinking about. With a shaky sigh I set my feet on the ground and shrug on my robe. The house feels cold so I pull it around myself tightly and make my way downstairs to the kitchen. At times like this when I find it hard to sleep I usually bake. It soothes me and gives me something other than fear to focus on.

The clock above the kitchen door shows it's a little after 3am; a good few hours before anyone else in the Village will be up. I dig in my pantry and pull out the ingredients, flour, yeast, oil, salt and sugar. I combine them together and knead them firmly with my hands. I stretch the dough out and add dried fruits, chopped nuts and cinnamon before rolling and dividing the mixture into 4 balls. I shape them into long loaves and set them aside to prove, taking the time to carefully clean up the mess I made. Back at the bakery, Mother would be watching my every move and would cuff me round the ear if my efforts to stay tidy weren't up to her standard…which was most of the time.

The loaves slide into the oven, filling my kitchen with warm and comforting smells. I sip my tea, the heat from the oven keeping me warm as I watch the top of the bread begin to crust and crack. I place them gently on a cooling rack and check the time once more; 5:05am. Still early and still dark outside, although through my window I can see the fresh white snow reflecting the gentle glow of the streetlamps that line the path in Victors Village.

I head back upstairs to take a quick shower, trying hard not to look down at the prosthetic attached just above my knee. Even after six months the sight of it still brings me pain; a constant reminder of my weakness. I dress in a pair of winter trousers and a dark green shirt, slipping my feet into my boots and pulling on a fur-lined brown coat. I tug the collar up round my neck. In the kitchen I take the loaves, wrap them in brown paper and tuck them inside my leather satchel which I sling over one shoulder before stepping outside. The air is crisp and cold and I fight off the shiver that threatens to make my teeth chatter. I march briskly towards my first port of call and watch as myy breath comes out in puffs of white. Dawn breaks but the dim light provides little help in navigating the narrow streets of The Seam. The wooden shack buildings all look the same and I take several wrong turns before I finally find the right house. Multiple pairs of boots in various sizes are lined up outside, protected only by the small canopy that overhangs the front door. I rap my knuckles against the door lightly and wait, worried that perhaps I've come too early. It must be about 6am now, should I have come later?

Just as I am about to turn away I hear footsteps on the other side. The door cracks open a little, squeaking on it#s hinges, before being pulled open wide. A young boy, perhaps no older than thirteen, stares up at me with startlingly sharp grey eyes. He squints and yawns loudly.

"Mr Mellark?" He asks, confusion evident on his face. "What are you doing here?"

"It's just Peeta," I say, cringing at the formalness of his greeting. I'm not much older than him. "I'm sorry to call so early but I wanted to drop those off while they were still warm."

I reach into my satchel and pull out two of the loaves of bread just as a voice calls from inside the house

"Who's at the door, Rory?" Mrs Hawthorne asks.

"It's Peeta Mellark," The boy I now know as Rory calls back over his shoulder.

"Well invite him in for heavens sake," She insists. "You're lettin' all the heat out!"

"Yes Momma," Rory says with a sheepish smile. He moves aside to let me over the threshold and I stamp my boots on the mat to shake off the loose snow. I step straight into the Hawthorne's kitchen; a small room with a table and chairs, a gas hob and wash sink. Mrs Hawthorne is sat at the table sewing a patch into the elbow of a shirt by the light of the fire. She looks tired but she smiles warmly at me nonetheless.

"I'm sorry to come by so early…" I start to apologise.

"Nonsense," Mrs. Hawthorne interrupts. "I'm up at the crack o' dawn most days and God knows I didn't get much sleep last night." She pauses, her needle hovering over the fabric in her hands. "How is my boy?" She asks hesitantly.

I bite the inside of my cheek and shuffle awkwardly from foot to foot. "I…I haven't checked in on him yet, ma'am," I respond. "But I'm sure Mrs. Everdeen is taking good care of him. He was asleep when last night."

Mrs. Hawthorne nods mutely and begins to sew again although her jaw is set stiffly. I clear my throat and step forward, placing the two loaves on the small table. "These are for you," I say, changing the subject. "And I can make more if you need it."

"That's very kind of you," She says. "Rory, fetch a couple of coins from my…"

"No!" I blurt, stopping her mid-sentence. She raised an eyebrow at me in surprise and Rory sniggers from across the room. "Sorry," I say in a lower voice. "I only meant that you don't need to pay for them."

Mrs. Hawthorne clicks her tongue and sets down her sewing. "Young man, I appreciate your generosity but here in this house we pay whats owed. Seam folk don't take well to charity…"

"It's not charity," I insist. "It's…a gift." I plead with my eyes, begging her to accept. "I don't mean any disrespect, Mrs. Hawthorne," I continue. "I know you to be a capable woman. I only want to help…just while Gale is recovering."

She sighs and nods somewhat reluctantly. "You're a kind and good lad."

"I better head back to the Village," I say with a blush and she stands to see me out.

"I have to work today and look after the littluns," She explains. "But I'll send Rory up to the Everdeen house after school to check in on Gale."

* * *

By the time I return to the Village the sun has just begun to peak over the horizon and the temperature has risen just a little bit. Haymitch's house is still shrouded in darkness. There is no doubt that he drank himself into a coma after what happened yesterday. I decide not to disturb him until later.

There is a light on upstairs at the Everdeen's so I tread quietly round the sound of their house, my plan being to sneak in through the back door to the kitchen and leave some bread on the counter top. I push open the door, warmth from the raging fire in the kitchen hitting me like a wave. I shrug off my jacket and close the door behind me.

I freeze.

Gale is lying face down on the kitchen table, the same place I left him last night. His butchered back is covered over with wet cloth, melted snow dripping onto the floor in huge puddles. Beside him, her head tilted at an uncomfortable angle, is Katniss.

She is sleeping perched on a stool, one hand acting as a pillow beneath her cheek while the other is resting in Gale's, their fingers perfectly intertwined.

I can't help the bitterness that creeps into my heart followed by the huge surge of guilt for being so selfish. I have no claim on Katniss and I have no right to feel betrayed. How she acted towards me in the Games…it was a role, an illusion. And it saved both our lives. It wasn't her fault that I fell for her, hook line and sinker. A love sick boy with the foolish notion that a girl as brave and extraordinary as Katniss Everdeen could ever have romantic feelings for a crippled baker's son like me.

I bite back my self-loathing and step a little further into the room. The light of the fire creates a warm glow around the sleeping pair but my eyes are drawn only to Katniss. I have no doubt that her sleep has been less than peaceful but in this moment she looks younger, happy even. Her hair is coming untucked from its braid and there is a flush in her cheeks. Suddenly she turns her head the other way and I have to stifle a gasp, the huge red swelling under her left eye reminding me that she didn't get away unscathed yesterday. I can tell the bleeding has stopped but it still looks incredibly painful.

Gingerly I touch her shoulder and bend down to whisper in her ear. "Katniss…"

She flinches and sits up abruptly, blinking her eyelids rapidly to adjust to the pale morning lighting. Then her hand goes to her cheek and she hisses in pain.

"Peeta?" She croaks, looking up at me with tired eyes.

"Go on up to bed, Katniss." I tell her gently. "I can look after him now."

She stares at me for a moment, her lips pursed and forehead creased. She turns to Gale, who is still sleeping, and then back to me. "Peeta," She starts. "About what I said yesterday, about running…"

"I know," I say, interrupting her. She's talking of her suggestion to leave District 12, to run into the forest. Yesterday I agreed to go with her but I know now that she'll never leave, not with Gale in such a state. "There's nothing to explain."

She seems to wilt at my words. Her expression saddens and she drops her gaze down to her lap. I can tell she is conflicted but for some reason this irks me. I don't need her to pity me.

"Peeta…" She says again in that voice that pulls at my heart strings.

"Just go to bed, ok?" I urge, fighting to keep the bitterness out of the tone of my voice.

This time she listens. She untangles her hand from Gale's and I take her place on the stool. I watch her retreating form and listening carefully to the sound of her footsteps on the stairs.

Almost the moment Katniss disappears from sight I notice Gale begin to stir and I panic. It hadn't actually been part of my plan to come in here and strike up conversation with the man competing for the attention of the girl I love. I sit as still as possible, hoping that my silence will encourage him to fall back asleep but I have no such luck. His eyes blink open and he stares drowsily back at me.

"Uh…hi," I offer lamely. "H-How are you feeling?"

He licks his dry, cracked lips and swallows thickly. "Like I just went three rounds with a mountain lion," He responds, flexing his fingers and frowning. He must be wondering where Katniss went. Perhaps he thinks he only dreamt that she spent the night by his side, holding his hand.

"Can I get you anything?" I ask. He requesrs only water so I fill a glass from the tap, bringing it up to his lips so he can take a sip.

"Thanks," He says when he's done and I smile weakly, sitting back on the stool.

We lapse into an uncomfortable silence, the only sound coming from the crackle of wood on the fire. I wonder if Gale will fall back to sleep or if I'll have to sit here until Prim or Mrs. Everdeen comes downstairs. I promised Katniss I would watch him but is that really necessary if he's awake?

"I know about the plan," Gale says so suddenly that I wobble on the stool. " _Her_ plan," He clarifies. "To leave 12."

I sniff and shrug nonchalantly. "Its not gonna happen," I say, staring at the ground. "Not now anyway."

I don't mean to word it quite like that and I feel almost guilty when I see the look of sorrow in Gale's eyes. He lifts his head a little and grimaces. "She can't let this stop her," He says seriously. "She told me about Snow and his threats. If you and Katniss are in danger you should get out of here while you still got time."

My mouth hangs open a little. Did he really just suggest what I think he did? "Gale," I stutter. "It's not as simple as all that."

He frowns deeper. "I don't see what's so complicated," He replies. "We used to talk about it all the time. We had a plan. You and her, you take your families, you head up to the fence line in the middle of the night and you keep going. Head east until you're far away from here."

"And what if they come looking for us?" I ask, indulging him for just a moment.

"You tear up some clothes and bloody them up a bit," He says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "It'll look like an animal attack. They'll declare you dead and be done with it."

It's not a half bad plan but it won't work nonetheless. "She won't go...without you." I say with a sigh, scrubbing my tired face with the palm of my hand. Gale doesn't respond to that straight away. He stares off like he's looking at something in the distance, the scowl on his face growing with each passing minute.

"I'm no good to anybody right now," He says miserably. "I'm as good as dead now that Thread has me on his radar. If I went missing they'd never stop looking for us." His eyes focus again and he captures my gaze. "Mellark, you have to convince her to leave."

I can't help it, I snort. "Have you _met_ Katniss Everdeen?" I ask incredulously. "There's nobody who could convince her to do anything she doesn't want to do. She won't do it for you and she certainly won't do it for me."

"She'll do it for Prim," He says with great confidence. And I agree with him. Katniss would do anything to keep her sister safe. It's what got her into this whole mess in the first place.

"Please," Gale begs. "I need her to be safe. Even if it means sending her off into the forest with you and leaving me behind."

Gale's selflessness only makes me feel worse. What does he expect me to do? Carry Katniss, kicking and screaming, away from 12? Away from him?

"You love her," I say quietly, sadly, not daring to look him in the eye. _'And I think she loves you,'_ I think to myself.

"So do you," He replies simply and takes a deep breath. "But we can't be enemies, Peeta. We fell for the same girl but we have bigger issues right now than who Katniss will end up with. The Capitol is the enemy. Everything else is insignificant."

I open my mouth to respond but clamp it shut at the sound of footsteps behind me. I turn to see Mrs. Everdeen, with Prim behind her, coming into the kitchen.

"Oh, good morning Peeta," She greets with surprise before looking past me at Gale. "I didn't think you'd be awake yet. How are you feeling?"

Gale insists that he is fine but Mrs. Everdeen sees straight through his bravado. She gently lifts the cloth covering his back and Gale moans into the table. I feel my stomach flip.

"I'll get more snow," Prim says, pulling on her boots and slipping out the door.

"Stay close to the house," Mrs. Everdeen calls after her. "It's quite the blizzard out there."

She sets to boiling water on the stove and laying out fresh bandages on a small side table. She takes a vial of morphling and pulls it up into a syringe. I close my eyes to stop the room from spinning. I've never felt right around needles.

"Will you stay for some tea, Peeta?" She asks just as I stand up. I grab hold of the edge of the table and even through his pain Gale manages to smirk at me.

"Oh, no thank you," I decline, reaching for my jacket and satchel hanging by the door. "I better check on Haymitch before the storm gets too bad and we're all snowed in."

She smiles in understanding and thanks me for the bread. I grip the door handle, bracing myself for the icy weather outside.

"Mellark," Gale calls to me and I look at him over my shoulder. "Thanks for yesterday…and for sitting with me." He doesn't say anything else but his eyes say more. They say _'remember what we talked about…keep her safe'._

I nod and take my leave, making the short walk across the snow covered to green to Haymitch's house.

There's no question of me keeping Katniss safe. Gale didn't really need to ask. I will do anything I can to protect her, because that's what we do… we protect each other.


End file.
